Faine hadn't anticipated how long it would take for anyone to speak anything of interest. She tended to all the tables, the guests, listened to flirtatious comments from an extra handsy sinwolf wearing a soft velvet coat, filled drinks, served meals, and most importantly—more than anything—smiled. Her cheeks were definitely aching with the effort to remain pleasant like the rest of the barmaids.

She studied her fellow barmaids carefully and compared them to royalty. They walked with their spines straight, and when they weren't carrying anything at all, held their hands delicately over the front of their bodies, their elbows bent in the perfect angle. It wasn't long before Faine was moving in the same, swift pattern and weaving through the tables became a simple act of moving her hips like the motion of waves past chairs. After she knocked her side against the first, she hadn't done it again.

Becoming as stiff and lifeless as someone without a soul took more practice than she'd initially realized. If she fretfully wanted to play the part of the giggly, smiling barmaid, she needed to do everything to ensure the mortal man wasn't watching her every move with great care. He was a spy, after all. He had every right to study her and discover the obvious faults in her craft.

As long as it had taken for Faine to receive no information, Kaspar finished his meal and was left picking at his dessert. He couldn't sit there and do nothing, the spies would catch on to him possibly listening in on their conversation, so when Faine got the chance, she slipped a book onto the table before him when both spies were looking out the window at a heated argument between a merchant and a buyer.

The mortal man ran a hand through his blue-black hair, curled around his ears and longer on top, styled by running his fingers through it. He displayed his broad smile more than once during a conversation about the fladline's dislike towards anything that was too sweet, despite her kind loving such a flavor. That smile brought to life every feature on his face, the sharp cheekbones, and the overall diamond shape—the smile in itself made him more handsome than when he frowned.

A heartthrob for every mortal woman, for sure. Faine didn't see him as anything more than what he was. Mortal. Mortals were weak and couldn't stand for themselves against Pinedon. Too much magic, too many immortals believing they were better than everyone else. It was in his best interest, and every mortal's, to move onto a different land that didn't involve so much fight.

Faine brought the wine bottle over to refill his glass. Evening was setting in, the sky was turning a soft pink and the clouds, once white, shadowed into a soft orange. It wouldn't be long before night fell and Faine would lose her ability to view their facial expressions. Just as the thought went through her head, a barmaid brought out a stool to reach the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Flame wasn't vivid, but with five chandeliers hanging through the room, it brightened quickly.

"Can I get you anything else?" Faine asked. By refilling his glass without asking, a newbie mistake, she was keeping them at the table longer. The mortal man looked on, uninterested with her presence. "Some dessert, perhaps? The caramel pecan roll is absolutely divine."

The fladline scrunched up her cat nose and her whiskers twitched. "Is it too sweet?" She narrowed her eyes, long lashes brushing against her thin brows. "I hate to eat anything that is too sweet."

"If you wish for something that isn't too sweet, then I suggest the Black Apple Tart. The taste itself is incredible, and if you need help with fertility for the time being, the dessert is a great choice." Faine set the half-empty bottle on the table in hopes it would make them stay longer. They were delaying the inevitable, the meeting that needed to be held. Putting the bottle on the table meant they could serve themselves, and mortals couldn't have a few drinks without losing themselves in the head. Not only had Faine provided her favorite wine, but it was also one of the strongest drinks she knew of. The mortal man's eyes were already heavy-lidded from the wine that fit the expectations of immortals but was safe enough for his kind to drink.

"I'll have an order of that, then." The fladline clapped her hands together once. "Ilian, do you want anything?"

He was slow to turn his head. "I believe I will have...a slice of cake of some sort. If you don't have that, please serve me whatever you think is best." The wine was quickly dulling his senses and by that, he was no longer searching for her faults. His stare, eyes dulled, was enough evidence of what had changed. Faine resisted the urge to laugh in his face.

Faine departed to grab one black apple tart and a slice of fudge cake. Her mouth salivated, but she didn't dip her finger into the thick, chocolate icing. Once she delivered the desserts, she found Kaspar waving her over impatiently to seem like the distrustful customer.

He'd make fun of her for her mouth-stretching smiles later. "Is there anything I can get for you, sir?" Faine questioned, high enough that the two spies could hear. "If your stay is extended, I'd be more than pleased to provide you with another plate of dessert."

"What are your options? What does a fine woman like you wish to eat on this beautiful evening?" Kaspar rested his chin on his fist and stared up at her, those golden eyes bashful and wise.

A snort came from the spy table and Faine hardly turned to acknowledge the mortal man overhearing their conversation. He was paying more attention to her than she wanted. If anything came of this crown business, she wanted him never to remember her face. A simple geas would help...

"Well, we have many options, we have the black apple tart, fudge cake..."

"They're not speaking anything of interest," Kaspar spoke at the same time, quiet enough that no one could hear him over Faine's loud list of sweet treats.

"We have crepes of all flavors including chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and lemon. Our rice cakes, on the savory side, may be to your liking."

Kaspar furrowed his brows. "I think we need to wait a little longer, but if they get through this meal without saying a word, it's fair Nalea's report is false. We must move on from this." He kept his stare straight ahead, towards the window, and nodded as Faine continued to list desserts.

"...perhaps our marzipan will make your evening full of ecstasy or our divine frosted treats, an entire plate, will be better suited to fill your stomach."

He drummed his hands on the table and shook the entire structure. "I think I will have an order of your strawberry crepes. And once I'm done eating, maybe I can ask you questions about your work schedule. I'd love to know when you're free for a picnic lunch."

Faine winked at him as she departed, only to have a hand clamp around her arm when she passed towards the kitchens. She stopped and clenched her free fist to keep from slamming it into the side of the mortal man's face. The hidden weapons she was so used to having on her arm bracers weren't with her, she couldn't use them here, and felt as naked as if she was running through the streets with nothing but her lilac skin on display.

"You don't have to be so kind to him, you know," Ilian slurred. "You mustn't try to please every man you come across."

That was the last thing Faine expected him to say. He'd paid attention to their conversation, yes, but had he absorbed enough that he was already deciding how he felt about her, and the way others treated her in the restaurant? The sweet wine was going to his head quicker than any other mortal she'd ever seen. And mortals were commonly used to bringing entertainment—the powerful in the land forced many to drink until they were sick and unable to stop themselves from dancing.

Faine placed her hand over the one on her arm. Ilian wore two golden rings, one against his middle knuckle and displaying a silver tree, and the other, a simple band over his thumb. The tree ring was that of Silver Willow, gifted to every criminal that stepped foot in the door and pledged themselves to agree to every rule and standard. He was parading this around, yet Faine hadn't realized it.

"I am certain that man means no harm. He's a simple flirt," Faine reassured, squeezing her hand over the ring.

"Don't worry about him," the fladline chuckled awkwardly. More seriously, her eyes bugged out of her head in warning when she looked at her companion. "Ilian, compose yourself."

Taking that as her chance to depart, Faine returned to the bar and began cleaning glasses. It wasn't long after that the fladline sighed, running a hand over her forehead of golden skin that matched so well with her light brown fur, and demanded attention from Ilian.

"We're getting this over with tomorrow, by the way," she threatened. "Whether or not you're hungover."

Ilian tipped the bottle to his lips, no longer bothering with the empty glass on the side of the table. He leaned back, casually crossing one leg over the other and draped his arm over the round backrest of the chair. Faine couldn't see his face anymore, but he rolled his neck and tipped the bottle back once more. A few of the barmaids were frowning at him and casting angered glares. No one of such low standards deserved to sit amongst the richest in the Palace District.

"Relax," Ilian said with a wave of his hand. "I know what I'm doing. Everything will be under control; I'll get the crown with no trouble at all."

The time had come. Kaspar was eating his crepes without looking up, without appearing interested, without calling Faine over to flirt with her more. Perfect. Everything was in line. She was in hearing distance to catch their muttered tones, even if Ilian wasn't bothering with whispering. His words were slurred, but clear enough.

Faine scrubbed glasses that were already sparkling clean and ignored the fladline attempting to shush him. Eyes drifted to her, but she kept her head down and appeared disinterested. Ninety-nine years as a spy had hardened her techniques. No matter what, don't look up. Don't appear interested. Don't give them a reason to have the conversation elsewhere.

An innocent barmaid that smiled all too often. That's all she was. Ilian and the fladline were treating her as such. Harmless, same as Kaspar's flirtatious intentions.

"We have a set time tomorrow, Ginevra. I don't plan on missing it." He smacked his lips.

"I have a hard time believing you'll make that time if you're hungover. You're likely to forget and I'll have to remind you. Again. This isn't the first time."

Ilian clicked his tongue. "During the high elf family lunch on the high elf daughter's birthday. Everyone of importance will be in attendance, and that means the palace will be empty. Simple, isn't it?"

"Do you remember that you have to make it to the outside of the city without being caught? Do you remember that?" Ginevra, the fladline, leaned across the table and closed the distance between them to lower her voice and still be accessible to hear. "I won't be there to hold your hand. No one will."

The wine was definitely getting to his head. No longer did Ilian care about the next day's mission and he wasn't worried about finding the crown, securing it, and making it outside of the palace. The security was tight, guards stood in every single hall and even layered throughout the outside. How did they devise a plan to pull it off?

Moving on from cleaning the glasses, Faine crouched down and dusted the inside cabinets to the bar. Her breaths were stilled, she tried to remain as quiet as possible, but was suddenly aware of the silence in the dining area. When she popped back up, shining a plate in her grasp, she found that Ginevra had her arms crossed over her chest. Faine could see why.

Ilian was tipping the bottle back as far as he could and catching the last drops of the wine.

"I've gone over that plan enough to know it like the back of my hand." He held up a finger, stopping Ginevra's upcoming protests. "You know what, I know the plan better than the back of my hand. That's how invested I am."

"So you're not planning on flying through the streets like an idiot tomorrow to get yourself arrested again? We're tired of breaking you out of dungeon cells, Ilian. A day will come that we don't get there fast enough," Ginevra hissed.

A seennouk sitting at a table across the dining area was waving Faine over, shaking his empty glass of water. She grabbed the pitcher, muttering under her breath and hoping that Kaspar was gathering all this information, and stalked over to the table. The seennouk pouted as much as his beak would allow for the less than speedy service, but took a sip and deemed Faine's apologies acceptable.

Faine moved from table to table and filled water glasses, made mild conversation, and kept herself as close as she could be to the information before reaching Kaspar's table. He held up his glass, and she filled it.

"Those crepes were delectable, weren't they?" Faine asked.

"Absolutely divine. Just as you are. What are you doing after work tonight? Do you wish to spend a night with me, a man with hundreds of years of experience and a feather-stuffed mattress? Trust me, it'll be worth your time," Kaspar said. His smirk held her captive, laced with promise.

It was the truth. He did have hundreds of years of experience and he had a feather-stuffed mattress that Faine was all too familiar with. The salary of working in a crime guild paid for it compared to the cot everyone started with, including Faine herself. Although her purchase of a new bed wasn't as extravagant as Kaspar's, it was enough. She found herself sleeping in his rooms more often, anyway.

Ginevra cleared her throat. "Excuse me?" Faine turned, raising her brows. But it wasn't her the fladline was looking to. It was Kaspar. "Excuse me, sir?"

She was one step away from standing from her chair or at least falling out of it. Kaspar turned, his stare holding less than interest. "Can I help you, madam?"

"I can't help but overhear your relentless and annoying flirting. It's very clear she's not interested in you; I suggest you move on." She scrunched up her nose and Ilian was still fiddling with the bottle as if it might refill. "Although it's entertaining to see your persistence, it's also annoying. Especially for her."

A hundred years of friendship nearly took over. Faine stuffed down her need to defend Kaspar and smiled awkwardly, looking between the two of them. The heating of her cheek was natural this time, she didn't have to force it. Normally, it was Kaspar that defended her from other men that flirted relentlessly and not other women that had no business involving themselves in such a private conversation.

Kaspar cleared his throat and the air by saying, "My apologies. I only wished to tell her of her beauty."

"I am certain she is aware of her beauty." The words didn't come from Ginevra, but Ilian. He didn't look at them and turned the bottle on the table. "It's obviously there, not even she could ignore it."

Everyone within hearing distance became confused. Was he listening, or was he talking to himself? It was difficult to tell, even for Faine, but a few drinks and he became the weak mortal everyone claimed them to be. She had always looked out for mortals and attempted to keep them away from beasts of magic, but there was nothing she could do for Ilian. He was on his own.